THE PRESIDENT 2 (31 page)

Christian immediately slid closer to her, and put his arm around her.
 
“You’ll weather this storm too, LaLa,” he said.
 

“And then he called me,” Dutch said and all three looked at him.

“What did he say?” LaLa asked, that hopeful look returning to her eyes.

“He wanted to know if I would intervene on his behalf to get his job back.”
 
LaLa deflated again. “I told him,” Dutch continued, “that whatever my wife had already relayed to him, he should go with that.”

LaLa smiled.
 
“Oh, I’ll bet he loved that.”

“No more than he deserves,” Dutch said and they all laughed, although Gina could still see that hurt in her friend’s eyes.

Then the limo crawled to a stop, the doors were opened by the secret service, and Dutch and Gina stepped out to the roar of the crowd.
 

“It’s show time,” Dutch said, buttoning his suit coat.
 
“Let’s smile like the circus acts they take us for, and lay it on thick.”

Gina smiled, but more at Dutch’s joke than the roaring crowds.
 
She knew all about those roaring crowds.
 
Because Dutch had it right.
 
Today he was their conquering hero.
 
Tomorrow their goat.
 

Dutch pressed his hand into the small of her back and ushered her to their, at least for right now, adoring public.
 

Christian pressed his hand into the small of LaLa’s back, which immediately released that lonely, depressing feeling, as they followed much further behind.

***

It was a calm morning and Victoria Harber decided to sit lakeside on her estate.
 
The fact that Roman Wilkes, famed criminal defense attorney and the man Max had told her was an ex-lover of the First Lady’s, was her guest that morning had everything to do with her decision.
 
She was no outdoors type.
 
She rarely walked the grounds of her own estate.
 
But she wanted him to understand that she was no nouveau riche who, like him, had to continue working to keep the money growing.
 
It had already grown.
 
She was already there.

Roman looked at the briefcase on his lap that was filled with half a million dollars.
 
Then he looked at her, still astounded that he was actually making this kind of transaction with the mother of the President of the United States.
 

“No-one knows?” he asked this, staring as if studying her.
 
She had the coldest eyes he’d ever seen.

“No-one,” she assured him.
 
“You get that five hundred thousand now, and then another five hundred thousand when the photos appear.”

Roman looked at the money again.
 
He would have to take on a lot of cases, over long stretches of time, to earn this much dough.
 
“This is a lot of money,” he said.

“I’m aware of that,” Victoria said.
 

“A lot of money to throw away.”

“If you produce the kind of photos I am talking about, it won’t be thrown anywhere.
 
It will, in fact, be the best investment I could have ever made.”

Roman studied her.
 
“You really hate the First Lady that much?”

“I don’t hate her at all.
 
I don’t know her to hate her.
 
My son has seen to that.
 
But you’re a smart man, Mr. Wilkes.
 
That’s why my people gave you a call.
 
It’s my understanding that you know how to handle jobs and keep it all very discreet.
 
This isn’t about my love, or hate, or more likely, indifference towards the First La . . ., towards that woman.
 
It is, however, about creating an image around that woman.”

“And your son?” Roman added.

“Yes, and my son,” Victoria admitted.
 

Roman exhaled.
 
“So you want me to photograph myself hugging and kissing the First Lady?”

“Exactly,” Victoria said.

“And how do you propose I do such a thing?”

“She’s given you White House clearance as her personal attorney.”

“Now how would you know about such a confidential matter?”

“I know everything that goes on in that house of ill repute.”

Roman smiled.
 
“House of Ill-repute?
 
Is that what the White House is nowadays?”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

Roman stared at her.
 
“Now I know you, Mrs. Harber.
 
I’ve heard nothing but glowing testimonies about your charitable work on behalf of the poor and downtrodden.
 
So I just know this characterization of yours has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that a sister is currently occupying that White House.
 
Nothing whatsoever.”

“Nothing whatsoever,” Victoria repeated, her eyes revealing nothing.

Roman smiled.
 
“I’ll get your photographs,” he said.

“And then get them published, remember that.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you simply hugging her,” Victoria warned.
 
“That won’t be enough for that second payment.
 
I need you kissing her on those big lips of hers.”
 
Roman looked at her.
 
“I need her perhaps on your lap or something.”

“I can hug her.
 
Can even get away with an innocent, chaste kiss that those photos, in the hands of some malicious journalist, just might interpret as anything but chaste and innocent.
 
But the lap thing ain’t gonna happen.
 
Not with Regina Lansing.
 
She’s doesn’t roll like that.”

“Well,” Victoria said, finding the entire situation deplorable, “I don’t care how she rolls.”
 
Roman laughed.
 
“I just want those photos published.
 
And when the public, a public, I might add, that generally detests her anyway, finds that she’s been less than this stellar woman my son is just so certain she is, your work will have been done.
 
And you’ll get your second payment.
 
But those photos had better be convincing.”

“No problem,” Roman said, relishing this infusion of cash.
 
“I never turn down an opportunity to earn real money.”

“She’s not a bad looking woman,” Victoria said with a deceptive smile.
 
“You’re a ladies man, it’s obvious.
 
You’ll probably enjoy yourself.”

“No doubt,” Roman said, now looking at her.
 
“And you’re right, she is a good looking woman.
 
But even so,” he added, “she’s got nothing on you.”

Victoria found herself blushing.
 
Why the ideal of it!
 
Him
flirting with
her
?
 
Absurd!
 
She looked at the peaceful lake, opting to ignore his flirtation.

Roman smiled and looked back down at that money.
 
Half a mil on his lap.
 

As he looked at his ill-gotten gain, however, Victoria took another look at him.
 
And at his big, black, rock solid she was certain, muscular body.

SEVENTEEN

The weeks came and went and the State Dinner in honor of the president of Russia was going right along without a hitch.
 
Gina was already being praised in the press for her gown choice, Dutch was still riding high in the polls because of the hostage rescue, and the White House State Room was abuzz with energy and that relaxed happiness Dutch and Gina had rarely enjoyed.
 
All, it seemed to Gina, was right with the world.

Which probably meant, she also knew, that something was up.

It wasn’t a reality, however, until later that night.
 
Dutch was laughing with the Russian president about something the German Chancellor had said, when Max walked across the room and whispered something in the president’s ear.
 
Gina was seated further away, listening to the First Lady of France go on and on about her former modeling career, when Dutch excused himself, stood and left the room.
 
For some reason, Gina’s heart began to pound.
 
She searched out LaLa and Christian.
 
When Christian saw her, he leaned over to LaLa.

“It’s the beauty of the thing,” he said, which was the code to be used when the First Lady needed an exit strategy.

LaLa immediately rose, whispered the same line in Gina’s ear, and Gina excused herself and also left the room.

“Where is he?” she asked Allison, who was standing in the Cross Hall. “The Oval?”

“Max’s office,” Allison said, and Gina headed in that direction.

When she entered the room, she saw Max on one side of the president and the White House Counsel on the other side of him.
 
The two men flanking Dutch had such a defensive stance that it almost looked to Gina as if Dutch was under some sort of attack and they were his bodyguards.
 
Also in the room were the Attorney General and the president’s National Security Advisor.
 
They were all staring at the television.
 
Gina looked too.

It was, as it usually was when bad news was about to break, a press conference.
 
Victoria Harber was at the podium, surrounded by Jennifer Caswell, Caroline Parker, and Kate Marris.
 
Kate Marris, Gina thought.
 
They dragged her out too?
 
She was one of the president’s ex’s who had accused him of impregnating her, only to suffer a miscarriage.
 
Now she was standing on the stage too.
 
And the only thing she seemed to have in common with the other three females behind Victoria was that she, too, was once Dutch’s woman.